As I rewrite this column, things have changed quite dramatically since my first draft. Notably, my Halloween was a lot more trick than treat as my roommate and I discovered a burglary had occurred in our room. My laptop and all of my saved work, including my column, disappeared along with my wallet. I originally wrote this column on my culinary growth after cooking for myself these past few months, but my feelings have changed in light of this recent event.
Granted, my culinary skills have indeed expanded twofold and cooking for myself has made me appreciate having a dining hall on campus. I have grown from alternating between scrambled eggs and pasta to actually making some of the recipes that I pinned on my Pinterest board and even deviating a bit to make them more my own. My best creations thus far has stemmed from having no one besides myself to rely on for food.
In my creative business thinking class, we discussed how the right amount of constraints can help in the creative process by giving just enough direction. My current lack of money and limited food supplies were apparently the exact constraints that I needed for more creative meals. As the incident occurred on Friday evening and school could not assist me until Monday morning the earliest, I opened my fridge and cabinet to find quite the selection of odd food to sustain me over the next few days.
Chocolate museli, a hybrid of granola and oat-like cereal, would serve as my usual breakfast. I had a few slices of bread and cheese left for a slightly disappointing, but sufficient sandwich for lunch. The biggest dilemma was what to eat for dinner, especially since my go-to breakfast for dinner was not possible without eggs.
As daylights savings hit Copenhagen a week earlier than it did in the U.S., the sun already begins to set here around 4:30 pm and it’s only the beginning of November. Between the darkness and the cold, the Danes seek “hygge,” which has no direct translation into English but means something like a “warm and cozy place.” A typical “hygge” involves blankets, candles, and warm drinks. My thoughts, however, immediately went to soup.
Soup has become my savior in my time of desperation and desolation. It solved my cold, dark, and poor problems all at once. I am convinced that you can put just about anything from your fridge into a pot of broth, let it simmer and call it a decent soup. My greatest soup achievement had beans, corn, shrimp, onions, peppers, and rice – an admittedly odd mix. Studies have even shown that soup can even simmer away your sorrows, though it might only be temporary in between emotional breakdowns. Trust me, I would know from my past experiences.
Looking on the brighter side of things, I can always turn to one of my favorite childhood books, “Stone Soup” and convince a friend to share some of their ingredients to create an even better soup to share. For those of you who did not have a childhood (aka did not read “Stone Soup”), the main characters tell the town that they will make their famous “Stone Soup,” which is only stones in hot water. As they’re making the soup, they keep suggesting ways that it could taste better and get almost all of the ingredients from different townspeople.
My current mantra is one step at a time as I begin to piece my life back together again. Each pot of soup is another creative culinary masterpiece, or at least a decent dinner. Each package from America is a sign towards normalcy and a hope that my parents included Dove dark chocolate with almonds. This Damsel in Denmark is looking a little more like a damsel in distress, but I’m taking one step and pot of soup at a time.
Christina Wing is a junior in the McDonough School of Business studying abroad in Copenhagen. Damsel in Denmark appears every other Friday.
